


25 Days Of BTD Christmas

by nicolasthedickolas



Category: Boyfriend to Death (Visual Novels)
Genre: 25 days of prompts, Blood, M/M, Polyamory, Ratings will vary by chapter, Sexual Content, Trans Male Character, christmas 2019, lots of Christmas fluff, will become explicit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:01:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21652684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicolasthedickolas/pseuds/nicolasthedickolas
Summary: 25 prompts for 25 days of Christmas with Cain and Rire, and their boys. Lots of Christmas fluff will abound.
Relationships: Cain/Rire, Cain/original male character, Rire/Original Male character
Kudos: 8





	1. Decorating The Tree

**Author's Note:**

> Rated T for mild suggestiveness
> 
> Charlie Peterson belongs to me  
> Ryan ‘Moony’ Luna belongs to my fiancé

“You realize this would be over faster if you’d just come help me, right?”

Cain huffs from his seat on the couch and keeps his arms crossed, one leg kicked up onto the coffee table next to his affogato, which only hadn’t melted away already thanks to a helpful touch of magic. “If I wanted to waste my afternoon smelling of pine tree and getting covered in glitter, I could have gone and hunted some pixies for sport.”

Charlie pauses, midway through a particularly adventurous reach to hang an ornament on an upper bough. “Wait, is that—“

Cain’s noisy sigh cuts him off, and the older fallen can’t tell if the laugh that bubbles up from his fledgling is just because of the sound or because it’s exactly the reaction he’d been hoping for.

“I hope Rire’s little plaything is putting him through some similar torture.”

Charlie hums, and takes a step back from the tree as though the hectic mishmash of unmatched ornaments might make more sense with a more distant perspective. “I think I heard Moony saying something about putting up their tree today too. And maybe some cookie baking.”

He doesn’t have to be looking at his sire to know that the mention of sweets would have his attention. He focuses on fishing through his box of cluttered, tangled up ornaments. He finds one that looks like a snowman made of ice cubes, wrapped in tiny fake Christmas lights. It gets hung next to a dinky green beaded candy cane that barely still carries the permanent marker scrawl of his name along the beads.

“Why not cookies first and then the deplorable tree trimming?” Cain asks, finally reaching for his drink, stirring a spoon through it before scooping up a bite.

“Mostly because cookies are a fantastic motivator. Partly because I knew you wouldn’t help so it would give you something else to complain about.” His tone is teasing, but Cain dislikes the implication that he’s _predictable._

“What if I just string you up with all those gaudy lights and go make cookies without you?” Charlie hears the quiet clink of glassware back on the coffee table. The quiet creak of the couch as Cain’s weight shifts. The first of eight little wooden reindeer finds its place among the tree’s branches.

“You could totally do that,” says Charlie, pretending not to notice as the predator in the room quietly stalks him. It sends a familiar chill up his spine. But he knows how to play this game _very_ well by now. “I’d be sad.”

“Mmhmm.”

“I might even cry.”

“Can’t have that,” Cain deadpans, and Charlie grins to himself as he’s hauled backwards and impacts with the fallen angel’s chest, several wooden reindeer still dangling from his fingertips.

“You can find way better reasons for me to cry than eating all my Christmas cookies and you know it.” Charlie enjoys the weight of those strong arms curling around his waist, and he doesn’t try to wiggle free, letting them both enjoy the moment. Cain’s cheek brushes his temple, then his lips hover near his ear.

“I’ll give you ten minutes.” Charlie’s smile spreads triumphantly wide. “At which point I’ll be going to make cookies with or without you. And if it’s without, I may _actually_ leave you down here with the tree tonight.”

Charlie tips his head back to look at Cain over his shoulder. “And if it’s _with,_ do you bring me _and_ the Christmas lights upstairs tonight?”

It earned him a swat, but he considered it totally worth it.

(The lights totally ended up upstairs with them eventually. Talk about temperature play.)


	2. Traditions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2 of the 25 Days of BTD Christmas!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated T for suggestiveness.
> 
> Charlie Peterson belongs to me.
> 
> Ryan ‘Moony’ Luna belongs to my fiancé.

Rire didn’t quite look like he belonged in the tidy little kitchen, crisp sleeves rolled up to his elbows and yellow eyes dubious as they peer over dark glasses at his companion. “And we’re baking _again_ today, because—?”

Ryan rolls his eyes - and tries not to stare at those goddamn forearms, damn it - as he sets his glass baking pan carefully on the counter before them. “Yesterday we made cookies _around_ tree decorating. Easy stuff! Today we’re making my family recipe cookies.” Ryan pats around in one of the taller cabinets for the bag of groceries he’d set aside _specifically_ for this moment, nearly dropping a can of condensed milk on his head for his trouble. Right between his little foxy ears, which he was _still_ struggling to adjust to some days.

“I still don’t quite see the significance of tree-decorating cookies compared to whatever this is about to be.” But the demon doesn’t move away from the counter as Ryan unpacks his ingredients, and he fully counts that as a win.

“Trust me, these are worth it.” A secondary bowl is pulled out, and Ryan dumps several rectangles of graham crackers into it and starts turning them into dust. He adds butter under Rire’s watchful eye, and the bowl of crumbs turns into a mass that he can spread out in the bottom of his baking pan, forming the crust on which the rest of the bars would be constructed.

“I’m surprised you aren’t saving them for Charlie to help you with then.” Rire obligingly passes Ryan a can opener, and watches him struggle with it for several minutes. The condensed milk can eludes his best efforts to pierce it.

“Oh, he hates coconut. Won’t touch the stuff.” He peeks up at Rire hopefully from behind the short sweep of that platinum blonde hair. A sharp-tipped tentacle darts out and punches through the metal like tissue paper, startling a squeak from Ryan. “Hey!” He peeks into the can like he expects there to be traces of ichor left behind like residue. “Oh. It, uh. It needs another hole on the other side—”

He barely contains a second squeal even with the fair warning. But the can is officially usable and so he continues with opening the rest of his stash - chocolate chips, butterscotch chips, and coconut flakes. Tiny claws work great for that! Ryan can see Rire’s smirk out of the corner of his eye, but he knows if he doesn’t ignore it they’ll never actually bake _anything._

On another day, maybe he wouldn’t mind that outcome. His demon boyfriend-whatever tended to make it up to him pretty damn well when plans got ruined.

“You’d think you’d want to avoid _family traditions_ given your history.” It’s said bluntly, but not cruelly. Another thing he’s gotten used to since Rire started hanging around more frequently.

“Yeah. I guess it’s like. Capturing the good times from back then, what there was of them, and making better memories too.” He takes a handful of coconut flakes and starts scattering them over the graham cracker crust. “Dumb human stuff, I know.”

“You aren’t a dumb human anymore.”

Ryan just hums, but he smiles more warmly as Rire takes up one of the bags of chocolate chips and helps to pour them into the pan when that layer is needed. He also flicks several of them at Ryan, demanding he catch them in his mouth. Like some performing seal!

At least, that’s what he compares it to between the insistent kisses Rire gives him afterward. “Consider it your reward for being a good seal,” the demon purrs, and Ryan flushes, elbowing him and wiggling free of his grip.

“Almost, almost, hang on—” He drizzles more of the condensed milk all over the layers of chips, all but starry eyed with anticipation over the finished product. Which still needed to bake. Lame. He drags a finger over the edge of the can and licks it clean. He doesn’t notice the way yellow eyes track the move.

“Mmmm— _god,_ why don’t I use this stuff more often? It’s just. A Christmas thing. God.” He tips the can up, trying to see if there’s anything left in there to taste, and splutters as several thick globs shake loose from the can and splatter messily over his mouth and chin. “Fuck—! Jeez. Mmm.”

Ryan licks around his mouth trying to gather up as much of it as he can. His other hand fumbles for the rest of the coconut flakes. His wrist is caught in the firm curl of a tentacle’s grip and he blinks as he turns his head, and sees the thinly-slitted eyes burning into him. He swallows thickly.

“Uhh—”

He’s dragged away from the counter, reeled in like a fish on a line. His hips bump against the edge of the sink. Ryan doesn’t quite remember when they reversed positions but he’s finding it difficult to complain. “R-Rire—”

“You had your treat.” Ryan’s mouth still feels vaguely sticky. His head is spinning a little as Rire lifts him and his ass meets countertop. “Time for me to have mine.”

“B-But the cookies—”

The cookies, as it turned out, could wait.


	3. Christmas Sweaters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3 of the 25 Days of BTD Christmas!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charlie Peterson belongs to me.
> 
> Ryan ‘Moony’ Luna belongs to my fiancé.

“Not. One. Word.”

“Oh, please, I can think of _several._ Easily.”

Rire growls softly, arms folding tightly over his chest as though it might possibly be able to disguise the garish clash of colors spilled across the cozy Christmas sweater he’d been wrangled into.

Admittedly it could have been worse. The sweater was predominantly black, with red skulls adoring the sleeves and torso in tidy little rows, laced with bright yellow sigils and a cheery hail of good cheer from Cthulhu. The tentacles were green and black and yellow, which he imagines had guided Ryan to pick the sweater for him to begin with.

“Don’t you just look as snug as a wiggly little bug in a rug?” Cain croons mockingly, as Rire glares daggers over the tops of his shades.

From the kitchen, Charlie’s head pokes around the doorframe. The eyesore of mishmashed plaid patterns interrupted by a vividly red plaid fox is markedly worse than his usual plaid ensemble. “Cain, stop cheating. Drop the disguise.” 

The smile slips from the fallen angel’s face, and he huffs as Rire’s shoulders lose some of their tightness. “Why would you go and spoil my fun, dove?” The illusion flickers away, though, and Rire sputters on an unexpected laugh at the sight of Cain, the _unkillable,_ oh-so-iconic first murderer, Cain himself, dressed in a Christmas sweater even uglier than Rire’s own.

Two rows of wine glass patterns tilt haphazardly back and forth along the top and bottom of the sweater. In between, two hand prints implore that you ‘feel the joy’ directly over his pecs. Rows of snowflakes and tiny trees and other symbols in shades of reds and blues and whites dance in rows under the words.

Cain’s own arms now cross over the sweater like it could undo what being seen had done. Rire had gone from looking miserable to looking smug in an instant. “Charlie, I’m going to actually get you something for Christmas now.”

“I’m not,” grumbles Cain, and Charlie rolls his eyes.

“Just sit on the couch and pretend you like each other, you big babies. Moons and I will be out soon. After the pictures you can both change.” Charlie heads back into the kitchen and Cain begrudgingly sits down on the couch, as far away from Rire as possible.

“Suddenly _I_ can think of several words for you.”

“You’ll keep them behind those sharp teeth of yours if you don’t want to get any blood on that monstrosity you’re wearing.”

“‘Wine Mom’, is I think how Moony would describe it.”

“Good thing he’s not here to describe it himself. I’d hate to hurt his feelings when I said that your sweater is ‘fuckboy chic’.”

“Your fledgling is rubbing off on you.”

“And so is your little fox.”

“If you’re going to start tearing each other’s clothes off,” interrupts Ryan dryly, “at least let us get _one_ picture in first.” Ryan’s own sweater has carefully-stitched cats matching along the sleeves and trails of Christmas lights as bordering to the words at the center, wishing everyone a ‘Merry Meowmas’ spelled out in tiny little paw prints. “Charlie, come on! They’re not going to make it much longer.”

Cain and Rire spring apart like they’d been burned. The tiny blonde slides onto the cushion nearest Rire and snuggles into his side as Charlie emerges from the kitchen with the tripod they’d been wrestling with for over ten minutes.

“I still say my phone would have worked.”

“Oh, please, it’s already done. Set it up and get over here.”

Charlie checks the camera several times to make sure the couch was centered properly in its lens, tongue sticking out slightly with concentration. He fumbles with setting the picture timer, and then rushes over to the couch to slot in between Ryan and Cain.

“Okay, actually smile and you two can get out of those.”

“If _he_ smiles, you won’t be able to show these to anyone,” Cain mutters disparagingly, as he reluctantly tucks an arm around Charlie.

“Oh, what a shame,” mumbles Rire back.

“Shhhh. No comments. Just smiles.”

Nobody complains much later when the shredded remains of all four sweaters have to be cleaned up. There would always be more ugly Christmas sweaters, after all. And the photos really _did_ turn out lovely.


	4. First Snow Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 4 of the 25 Days of BTD Christmas!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charlie Peterson belongs to me.
> 
> Ryan ‘Moony’ Luna belongs to my fiancé.

The buzzing of Charlie’s phone isn’t what wakes Cain that morning. It isn’t the way Charlie springs out of the bed and races to the window, or presses his face against the glass like a child. It isn’t until Charlie launches himself back onto the bed, directly on top of his immortal beau, that Cain becomes aware that the day is starting, _immediately,_ whether he likes it or not.

“It’s snowing!!”

“Mmm. And why should I care?”

Charlie tugs at him, struggling to peel away the blankets, squirming himself in between Cain and the thick duvet to try and pry him out of the bed. “Because its a real snow! It’s sticking to the ground and everything. Moony’s coming as soon as he can get Rire up.”

Cain snorts softly, but he allows himself to be hauled upright. “Getting Rire up must be a struggle, I hope they’ve tried pills—”

Charlie huffs and keeps pulling until Cain gets his feet under him. All the way into the closet, so they can both get dressed before they even go downstairs. Plenty of coffee and a quick breakfast is all they have time for before they hear the knock at the door and Charlie rushes to answer it.

Ryan drags Charlie out the door as soon as it opens, nearly headlong into a thick pile of snow just off of the porch. They’re both laughing, as Cain hangs back, hoping to perhaps be forgotten while the two former humans play together instead.

“Already had enough fun tromping through the snow to get here?” he asks Rire, who is bundled up in a full winter getup, less becoming of his usual style but infinitely warmer at least.

“Moony insisted we teleport for that exact reason,” Rire mumbles, “Said no one would notice, most people will be inside hiding from the weather anyway.”

“And yet here _we_ are.”

“Indeed.”

A snowball lands on the porch, inches from Rire’s feet. Charlie grins at him, already packing another one in gloved hands. “What’s the matter, Stretch? Can’t handle a little ice powder?”

A snowball connects with his shoulder, from Ryan, and he turns to wing the snowball in his hand in that direction instead. When Charlie turns back he gets a faceful of snow, reeling back with a short scream of shock as Rire laughs at his misfortune.

Until the sharp sting of a snowball thrown far too hard hits the demon in the side of the head, and Rire whips around sharply to see Cain halfway down the porch steps, gloves now dusty with snow. His mouth curls into a wicked smile.

The snow starts flying furiously after that. Charlie tackles Ryan into the snow and they both end up with slush down their collars, wiggling and complaining as they wrestle physically until they’ve nearly burrowed through all the snow and hit the frozen ground.

A shout from Rire alerts them to the other pair’s antics, and they both look over to see Rire and Cain grappling similarly. Tentacles are wrapped around Cain’s limbs, trying to haul him onto his back, but he’s doing is best to keep Rire pinned instead, grinding him down into the snow.

Victory for team fallen angel is declared fairly soon after. Charlie scrambles out of the dirt and throws up his arms with a whoop, before he lets himself flop back into the snow and splay out his limbs, making a clumsy snow angel.

The snowman attempts that followed eventually devolved into an argument regarding what was and wasn’t allowed, magically speaking. The authentic snowman experience, of course, called for hands only and no tricks to keep the snow from breaking off their snowman’s body along the way.

These rules, understandably, were not followed.

The snowmen made by Rire and Cain didn’t survive long to enjoy their superiority to the handmade ones from Charlie and Moony.

It’s after noon by the time the wind gets sharp enough through their dampening clothes that they finally drag themselves inside. There’s far less complaining from the older pair than their younger lovers had imagined there would be. 

Possibly because of the shared hot showers that quickly followed. 

(For the record, Cain might have won the snow battle, but Rire won the shower war. Thoroughly.)


	5. Christmas Movies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 5 of the 25 Days of BTD Christmas!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating is slowly increasing now. Definitely saucier and a bit more violent than before ;)
> 
> Charlie Peterson belongs to me.
> 
> Ryan ‘Moony’ Luna belongs to my fiancé.

“Some of this Christmas behavior seems a little repetitive, don’t you think?”

The third movie of the evening was finishing itself out on the screen in front of them. By this point both Charlie and Ryan had fallen asleep, draped haphazardly across the middle of the couch and tangled up in blankets and one another. At either end of said sofa sat Rire and Cain, the last holdouts against the wee hours of the morning.

Rire set aside his tea and glanced sidelong at him. “Most of humanity seems a little repetitive regardless of the season.”

“Mm, fair. Eating three meals a day probably seems unnecessarily repetitive to a brute like you.” Cain’s words aren’t quite so sharp as they usually are. He’s hardly paying any attention to the movie, wondering if they should leave the sleeping duo down here on the couch or move them up to one of the beds—

“Probably best to leave them. They’ll likely complain that waking up like they are is part of their ‘experience’.”

Cain huffs. “I’ll thank you to stay out of my head, Rire.”

The demon smirks, revealing just a touch of too much teeth. “I wasn’t in it. Your thoughts were all over your face.”

Cain grumbles and glances away, fingers drumming lightly on the arm of the couch. “They could just as easily complain that being carried off to bed could have been part of the ‘experience’.”

“Mm. Possible, but not probable, comparatively.”

Rire extracts himself fairly easily from the weight of Ryan splayed across his lap. The boy’s tail twitches lazily, body shifting a little as he adjusts to his new position. Charlie wiggles closer, sensing Ryan’s discomfort, and Cain takes the opportunity to shift free as well. The two curl into each other, struggling sleepily with blankets until they’re both satisfied, rolled in close together, warm and content.

The credits begin to play as Rire leans to cut off the television. Cain meets his gaze for a moment across the darkened room, neither of them hurting much for the lack of light. Unnatural eyes, piercing yellow and gleaming gold, hold for several seconds before Cain turns away. He doesn’t need to look to know that Rire is following him.

Slow steps out of the room become quicker as he quietly takes the stairs, two at a time. He can’t hear Rire’s feet, knows it doesn’t matter.

There’s something to be said for having more and more things these days that can get his heart pumping like this. The endless drag of monotony and boredom and squeezing every drop of entertainment from passing playthings— he doesn’t miss it.

Not that he doesn’t still play, but… It’s not quite so integral to keeping his sanity intact. There’s Charlie, who slipped in like a knife between the ribs and pierced his heart, who challenges him to find some pleasures in life that are worth not sending up in flames.

And there’s Rire.

Rire who stands no chance against him, Rire who doesn’t flinch but also doesn’t overstep. Who doesn’t grovel but doesn’t presume beyond what remains entertaining. Rire who actually can let him slip, from time to time, into a place where even _he_ can simulate a feeling of helplessness, of submission.

With the knowledge that he’d tear anyone else who ever tried it into _shreds._

The bedroom door closes at his back and Cain feels the coil of tentacles at his wrists and tells himself it doesn’t send a chill down his spine. “With that hair of yours, one could almost mistake you for a Christmas present.” Rire’s breathy purr rumbles in his ear.

Cain yanks one arm free, whirls in his grasp to grip the demon by his collar. Those sharp teeth are a hair’s breadth from his mouth, threatening and promising at once. Heat blossoms in his stomach and spreads outward from there.

“Too early for opening presents,” Cain says, and doesn’t let himself duck the move as he feels a tentacle curl slowly around one of his ankles. He’s tripped off his feet and onto his back on the bed. Rire is over him in a flash, and Cain can admit privately that he must be an intimidating picture to anyone who fears death. Those tentacles rear over his shoulders, a looming threat, his eyes glowing over his shades, his mouth a wicked splay of serrated edges just begging to sink into something soft and shreddable.

“Perhaps I’m impatient.”

Cain twists his leg around one of Rire’s own and rolls them, pins the demon down with hands on his shoulders, straddling the other’s hips. He can feel the hard pressure of _something_ against his inner thigh. He’s sure Rire can feel something similar, given the way those lustrous eyes narrow and dilate, frustrated but also eager.

“I’ve been told very clearly by now that naughty things don’t get presents. Especially not early.” He grins, and one hand leaves Rire’s chest, as his own creeping vines begin to bloom and coil around bedposts, mercilessly piercing flesh as they haul Rire into a spread eagle position. The scent of blood spikes in the air and both of them are suddenly feeling far more _desperate._

“Now, I don’t have any coal lying around…” His fingers seize Rire’s chin, avoiding the snap of sharp teeth. “But I think I can find a fitting punishment for you.”


	6. Naughty vs Nice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 6 of the 25 Days of BTD Christmas!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charlie Peterson belongs to me.
> 
> Ryan ‘Moony’ Luna belongs to my fiancé.

“So…. what is this, exactly?”

Charlie grins big. The intimidatingly large and unusually shaped object hidden under a towel was an elephant in the room that he was currently holding the leash to.

“Well, I know we’ve been having a lovely and classic Christmas so far, in honor of our otherworldly boyfriends. But I thought I’d bring a, uh, more _unique_ tradition of mine back from my college stint for everyone else’s pleasure—“

Cain levels him with a knowing look. “You aren’t participating, are you.”

“Oh, hell no.” Charlie whips the cloth off the table and reveals the large roulette wheel lined with shot glasses. Their contents range from dark brown to varying rainbow-hued colors, vivid reds and greens, and horrifying yellows.

Ryan raises a hand immediately. “Can I be excluded on the grounds that I might throw up?”

Charlie laughs, and gives the wheel a spin, making the tiny glasses rattle quietly as the wheel goes round and round. “Of course not! Throwing up is how you forfeit!”

Ryan groans quietly and buried his face in his hands. Rire pats his shoulder and asks, “So what exactly makes this a Christmas event and not just you flexing your feathers at torturing people?”

Charlie points at him. Ryan, from behind his hands, can perfectly imagine the gesture based solely on the tone of his voice. Like a cursed gameshow host. “I’m glad you asked, my hentai-inclined friend.”

“I _really_ hate when you say that—”

“This,” Charlie continues, as though Rire wasn’t presently speaking, “is called Naughty vs Nice! In the spirit of Christmas, it’s time for all the little children bad and good to take some shots and test their luck.”

Cain sighs, heavily. “If only you would use your powers for evil on others, I’d be so much prouder of you.”

“Considering how often you use your powers for evil on me? I have no sympathy for you, babe.” Charlie gives the wheel another spin, clearly relishing in the power he currently wields. “Now who’s up first?”

After some brief arguing, it was decided that Rire, being the overall least attached to his taste buds, should go first.

Charlie insists on being the one to spin the wheel each time, lest someone get the bright idea to break his little toy. An unassuming shot glass landed under the arrow, largely transparent,. “Maybe it’s just vodka,” says Ryan, as Rire lifts the glass.

Rire contemplates it, and then, resisting the urge to test its smell before he braved the contents, he simply upended the shot and, with a sweep of his tongue, knocked its contents loose and into his mouth. He chews, swallows, and takes great pains to show no pain as he says, flatly, “Vinegar.”

Cain hoots with laughter as Ryan covers his mouth, torn between laughter and dismay. “Ohhhhh, baby—”

Charlie is already spinning the wheel again, a merciless game master. “Moons, you’re up next!”

“Wait, wait, Charlie, I don’t think I’m ready—”

The wheel ticks its way to a stop and Ryan whimpers at the glistening shade of yellow jiggling threateningly in its glass. Charlie all but forces the glass into his hand. “C’mon, don’t be a coward, Moony. Do it!”

Ryan whines but wiggles a finger into the glass to loosen the shot, and then he takes a deep breath and knocks it back. He chews, face twisted up, prepared for the worst, and then he pauses, swallows, and says, almost in disbelief, “It's... apple juice!”

“And food dye,” says Charlie, eyes alight with sadistic glee as he spins the wheel yet again. This time with his beloved sire caught down the barrel.

The wheel comes to a stop on one of the green-tinted shots, and Cain lifts a brow as he looks down at it before looking up at Charlie. “If this is bad,” he says, as he lifts the tiny glass, “I’m quitting.”

“You can’t quit unless you throw up,” Charlie insists, but the corner of his mouth has already started to twitch.

“Don’t tempt me.” Cain upends the glass, and gags almost immediately. He splutters, and spits half of the jello right back into its glass. “Is that—?! Charlie Peterson, is this _pickle juice??”_

Rire is snickering loud enough to win half of the fallen’s ire, sparing the fledgling from taking the full brunt of it. “Oh, that’s funny, is it?”

“You’re only lucky I didn’t have a camera ready.”

“The only reason you didn’t react to the vinegar is because you’re full of vinegar yourself.”

“Funny, you’ve drank enough wine even since I’ve met you to pickle yourself by now.”

“Guys, guys—“ Charlie lifts his hands, calling their attention to him once more. “If you really wanna have this pissing contest, I’ve got 12 more shots here with your names on them. And only five of them are even bad!”

“Wait.” Ryan looks puzzled. “There’s 15 shots? Then what’s the odd one?”

“Oh, water. It barely counts as a drink anyway.”

“You… so it’s just a _regular_ Jell-O shot?” asks Cain. “That would make it a good one, wouldn’t it?”

“No. It’s just unflavored gelatin and water. It’s water jello.”

The three of them stare at Charlie, with varying degrees of judgement on their faces.

“I…. I almost hate that more than the pickle juice,” Ryan murmurs, slowly covering his face again.

“One day,” says Cain, ominously. “One day he’ll use his evil properly.”


	7. Candy Canes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 7 of the 25 Days of BTD Christmas!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter earns the explicit rating!
> 
> Charlie Peterson belongs to me.
> 
> Ryan ‘Moony’ Luna belongs to my fiancé.

“Oh my god.”

“What, you don’t like it?” Cain’s pouting voice always sounds exaggerated, but given what Charlie is staring at, he knows with one _thousand_ percent certainty that his sire is fucking with him.

Maybe literally, apparently.

“I didn’t say that, Cain, but— Jesus, where’d you even find that?”

“So you _do_ like it?” Cain’s voice is cloyingly sweet, smotheringly so.

“You’re avoiding the question—“ Charlie points out, and falls back another step as Cain moves in closer toward him.

_”You_ started avoiding the question first, dove.”

Charlie feels his back hit the wall and the bottom drops out of his stomach. Would he ever become fully accustomed to being in love with the apex of all apex predators?

His central nervous system was presently hinting that if he did, it would still be quite a long time coming. Especially since the thing that Cain was presently menacing him with was, of all things, a thick glass candy cane that had a perfectly rounded tip and generous length that broadcasted an obvious intent for its use.

“Look, I am _all for_ you getting into the Christmas spirit. I just, uh—“ Cain braces a hand on the wall and leans in over him, smirking toothily. Charlie has a brief but vivid sensory memory of another place and time, another moment of feeling pinned by Cain’s looming form. It flashes through him, here and gone, a trauma long since buried under sentiment and changed expectations.

It still makes Cain pause, briefly, before he grabs Charlie’s chin and forces his head up just an inch higher. Golden eyes inspect his face ruthlessly. Charlie doesn’t struggle, lets him see what he needs to see.

“You just, ‘uh’, what, darling?”

Charlie sucks in a deep breath, and then exhales. “Not exactly sure how I feel about being _literally_ stuffed with candy for the holidays.”

Cain’s smile sharpens a bit more at the edges again. “Will it ease you more to know that Moony is going through a very similar scenario just now with Rire?”

“Honestly, yeah, I’d be significantly more unsettled if this wasn’t some kind of ‘we’re barely tolerating Christmas so let’s get them back’ kind of thing.”

Cain lays a hand on Charlie’s chest and slides it slowly downward, under the parted edges of his plaid button down. “Allow me to _reassure_ you then, dove.” Long fingers, pale and dangerous and perfect, trail downward until they reach the front of his jeans, cupping him fully to give him a firm squeeze that had Charlie’s breath hitching sharply in his throat. “This is all about showing you what happens when I decide to _embrace_ the holidays.”

—

Across town, things had progressed with far more expediency.

“Wider.”

Ryan whined and obeyed, spreading his thighs further apart.

“Are you really going to make me tell you again?”

“Oh, fuck you, Rire, they’re wi— iiihhhhhhnnn!” Two tentacles curl around his ankles and spread him further apart, making his muscles strain to hold the position. It was a good kind of burn though, one that had him squirming and bucking his hips as Rire looked down on him with rapt attention.

“Mm. For someone protesting so much, you look very eager for it.” The tip of one ichor-slick tentacle teases its way down over Ryan’s pussy, smearing wetness in its wake. Shortly behind it follows the cool tip of that thick glass candy cane. Ryan shudders.

“I-I can’t believe you two— f-fuck—“ The toy slips inside an inch, and then back out again. Rire is leering at him over the dark frames of his glasses, and Ryan can feel himself flushing under that hungry stare.

“As often as possible, really.”

“Sh-shut up!! Up shut!! Hnnnn… y-you two!! Bought these ridiculous th-things!” The first loop of that signature red stripe is starting to sink inside him now. He can tell each time it goes deeper as much by the stretch as by the temperature change.

“Mm, we thought you’d both find them very… seasonal.” Rire twists the glass shaft inside of his lover, and relishes in the way he jerks his hips and groans noisily. “You _are_ lovely when you’re so worked up, Moony, darling.”

“Bite me,” he gasps out, clenching on another couple of inches. “Ohhhhh fuck, please tell me it’s almost all the way in, i-it’s— hhhfffff—“

Rire chuckles softly. “Oh, sweet boy. You’ve taken me far deeper than this before.” The tentacles curled around his ankles squeeze as if in reminder. “I’ve been so, _so_ much further inside you than this little toy can reach.”

Ryan whimpers, high-pitched and desperate, and his fingers curl tighter into the bedsheets, sharp little nails tearing into the mattress. His pale skin is damp with sweat and flushed red from exertion and embarrassment. His only solace is that Cain and Rire hadn’t chosen to do this to the pair of them at the same time, _in the same place._

Next time they might not be so lucky.


	8. Sleigh Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 8 of the 25 Days of BTD Christmas!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charlie Peterson belongs to me.
> 
> Ryan ‘Moony’ Luna belongs to my fiancé.

Charlie Peterson was a man of many largely harmless and varied quirks of nature. The excess of plaid in his wardrobe, for one, tended to earn the scorn of his lover on the regular. His holiday fanaticism surely made the list. His alcoholism tended less toward the harmless end of the list, but immortality suited him weaning himself off that habit.

Falling under the ‘holiday fanaticism’ umbrella, though, was a rather annoying penchant he had that Cain, truly, could not understand.

“You… you realize just because you’ve decorated it that it isn’t actually a sleigh, correct?”

Charlie huffs and drops his arms. “Until December 26th? Uh, yeah, it’s absolutely a sleigh. It’s my sleigh, and I will accept absolutely nothing less until the end of the season.”

The car is an eye-catching shade of green that could have it nearing ‘monstrosity’ status, depending on your personal taste. It’s on the smaller side, something Charlie personally didn’t prefer but the price cut had been worth it to downsize at the time. And at this point he was too attached to replace it now that he had a boyfriend that could afford to.

Halloween often saw it in varying states of decoration, whether it was gel clings in the rear windows or spiderweb strung through head rests. Plastic bones filling his trunk.

For Christmas, the front end of the car was adorned with the cliche (and truly in poor taste) reindeer antlers, while the sides got strung with two strands of jingle bells, creating a rather obnoxious cacophony that only loud music could drown out.

For obvious reasons, both Cain and Rire preferred teleporting to driving during the entire Christmas season. Ryan and Charlie happily cranked up the tunes and relished in being a giant Christmas eyesore.

That was another thing that Ryan and Charlie still did, even though there wasn’t as much need anymore. Running errands, still buried deep in their human culture, clinging to old traditions and patterns that they could have broken if they only reached to do so.

Cain would comment occasionally on finding other places to live, exotic locales, supernatural climes. Charlie would express interest, but only as visits. Ryan reacted similarly when Rire mentioned the cityscape that was his sector of Hell.

So Charlie and Ryan heading out of the house with a grocery list and plans for hot chocolate and loud Christmas music? Absolutely average, and something which didn’t worry either of their older counterparts. Even as several hours passed, Rire poured over one of his tomes and Cain tormented passersby from the roof.

The late morning drifted to afternoon, wandered into evening.

Like an alarm bell in Cain’s head, he all at once sits bolt upright. A frantic tugging, the pull of magic deep within him. Charlie.

Rire starts to question, brows furrowed, but Cain doesn’t wait, only disappears. He follows the trail, catching hold and transporting himself directly to the other end of its source.

He appears in a hospital room, to the rhythmic beep of a nearby machine, the chemical tang in the air. And a bed dominating the room, with a figure sprawled rather pathetically amid the sheets.

_Charlie._ Bruised and battered, a brace on his neck, limbs limp and skin washed out in pale gown on pale sheets. But those dark eyes are open, barely, fluttering.

“Cain,” he croaks, and the fallen angel is at his side without thinking, without realizing. Cain wants to reach out, and realizes that he doesn’t quite know where to touch. There’s so much... damage. “Y-you… came—“

“Shhh. Hush, dove. I’ll fix you up.” Logic sparks, tries to take the wheel. He can fix this. He has that power. But it’s crippling, to see an injury and know it can be fixed pales next to knowing that the one injured is yours, that they had to hurt at all.

“M-Moony—“

“Shh, yes, we’ll get him too. Rire will fetch him.” The machines start up an internal racket as Cain starts plucking at cords mindlessly, cutting things off, uncaring. Unthinking.

“S-some— ahh—“ He hisses softly as Cain lifts him, sinks in against him with a shudder as his lashes flutter, threatening unconsciousness again. “Some… asshole, he…” Cain hushes him again but Charlie presses on. “Wrecked the— the sleigh.”

Cain kisses the top of Charlie’s head, willing him to sleep, to let go. And he’s weak enough that his fledgling does, drifting back into blissful oblivion. He can hear a second chorus of alarm bells somewhere. Rire had found his way to where he was needed.

“Don’t worry, dove.” Cain checks the room briefly to be sure none of Charlie’s things were tucked away anywhere. “We’ll avenge that ugly little thing. And I’ll buy you another damnable sleigh. In red.”


	9. Snowman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 9 of the 25 Days of BTD Christmas!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charlie Peterson belongs to me.
> 
> Ryan ‘Moony’ Luna belongs to my fiancé.

After the events of the night before, Charlie and Ryan both are content to stay close to home for a bit. Magical healing was a hell of a thing, as they both knew very well, but even with a replacement ‘sleigh’ sitting out in the driveway, neither of them were feeling up to climbing into it.

Though the wounds themselves are gone, the memories are going nowhere fast.

Rire and Cain were trying not to hover much. They weren’t exactly adept at offering comfort or care to others, even these rare beings that they had chosen to care about. But the idea of completely abandoning them, as they might have in the past, felt uncomfortable as well.

In the kitchen, Charlie is staring at the keurig as though he’s never seen it before in his life, while Ryan continues to stab at the same pile of eggs he’s been trying to eat for twenty minutes. “What did you, uh…. wanna do today?”

Charlie finally seems to realize that he needs a mug to actually use the machine he’s staring at, and he goes to the cabinet to find one. “I dunno, Moons.”

“It snowed again last night.”

“Yeah.”

Charlie finally gets his coffee made, and Ryan ditches the last of his eggs in the trash. They pile together onto the couch and turn on trashy tv to cope. Being tangled up together is comforting. It feels safer. Grounding.

They might have been content to stay like that all day if not for the sound of rustling that eventually started coming from outside. At first they ignored it, imagining it to be some animal in the snow. But the longer it went on, the harder it became to ignore.

Finally, Charlie pushes himself up a little higher on the couch and tries to peer over the back of the couch toward the window. “What is—“

Ryan wiggles to try and see as well, poking his head up under Charlie’s arm. “Something’s… out there?”

“It didn’t snow _that_ much.” Charlie climbs off the couch and heads for the door. “Probably those kids a couple blocks down. You ever go build snowmen in other people’s yards growing up?”

“Oh, god no. I didn’t have the balls.” Ryan is following him, curious, latching onto the distraction from what was in both of their heads.

They open the door—

And at first, they’re dumbfounded. Neither of them quite believe what they’re looking at. It’s the kind of thing that you see online, in pictures, in movies, but never in real life. Given how their lives have pretty much been turned into one big supernatural movie, you’d think that would make this easier. But it still takes over a minute before either of them moves or speaks again.

“Holy shit.”

Charlie takes a step out onto the porch, and Ryan leans around the doorframe in order to see better. “This doesn’t look like something those kids would be capable of.”

Standing at the base of their stairs was a snowman. His body was the usual rounded circles for the most part, but there was a particular detail that made it stand out from most other snowmen of its ilk.

The lifesize and highly realistic penis sticking out from its lower body, complete with balls. If not for the color, it could have been a real person’s cock attached to this godforsaken creation of man.

Charlie doesn’t have to think hard about who might actually be responsible for something like this.

“Cain!”

“No need to shout, darling. I’m here.”

His sire emerges from behind the horrific monument to winter-themed adult entertainment. Rire doesn’t waste time in letting Ryan call him before he comes around the other side.

“You can’t just slap a dick on a snowman and leave it around for people to see! It’s public indecency!”

Rire grins. “Maybe the public could use a little indecency.”

“There are kids in this neighborhood!” Ryan protests weakly.

Cain snorts. “As if they haven’t already seen it all anyway.” Charlie huffs, and Cain continues. “You haven’t even seen the nice lady friend we made for him down in the yard.”

Ryan makes a choked sound and they both stumble off the porch and out into the snow to see that yes, a snow lady complete with detailed snow breasts and a vivid cleft between her discernible snow legs was absolutely sitting in their yard.

Ryan and Charlie exchange glances.

“There’s only one thing to do about this.”

“Agreed, Moony.”

They both go for the snow woman at full sprint, determined to take her to the ground. Rire catches Ryan by the ankle with a tentacle and trips him up, but Charlie dodges and dives chest-first into her generous torso to send her perfectly rounded edges toppling.

He comes up for air shivering but feeling more alive than he had since he’d woken up in that hospital bed. He grunts as Ryan lands on top of him, tossed into the snow by Rire. They crawl to their feet and see Rire and Cain taking up a defensive stance in front of their snowman.

“If you want him, then come and get him.”


	10. Snowed In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 10 of the 25 Days of BTD Christmas!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explicit rating earned in this chapter!
> 
> Charlie Peterson belongs to me.
> 
> Ryan ‘Moony’ Luna belongs to my fiancé.

“We should, ah— _shit,_ we should call them, right? Let them know we’re not—“ Rire twists his fingers and Ryan shudders, head falling back against the tile as he pants, breathless in the steamy shower air. “—mmmph, not coming anymore?”

“We certainly are still coming, unless you’re shaking for some other reason…”

Ryan bats at him, but ends up clutching closer, nails digging in as he moans, bucking his hips down onto those thrusting fingers. “Y-you know what I mean! Jerk!” His voice pitches up another octave, strained around the pleasure Rire was ruthlessly stirring up within him.

“I can assure you, Cain and Charlie can make safe assumptions without our needing to call them this exact moment. Given the weather, of course we’re choosing to stay home.”

Ryan huffs out a breath, but his body jerks as Rire’s fingers withdraw. Rire moves in closer, and Ryan moans as their bodies slot together, feeling the demon’s thick cock pressing up against him. “Shit— But we don’t h-have to go outside—“

Rire rocks his hips forward, one guiding hand helping to press the tip of his cock against Ryan. Even with the thorough prep, it’s a delicious stretch as it sinks into him. A tentacle nudges up against his pussy teasingly, thin as a finger, and he whimpers as it slides in as well, knowing before it even begins that it’s going to expand.

“Clearly,” says Rire, with all the fondness that he’s capable of in the words, “I’m not doing my job well if you’re clear-headed enough to think like that.”

Once his cock is fully sunk inside of Ryan, and that fattened tentacle is stuffing his other hole, he starts to move them in tandem, rocking his hips as the tentacle pumped in and out of his pussy. Ryan groans and curls his legs around him, abandoning his weight completely to Rire’s hold.

Given the amount of teasing that had preceded it, it doesn’t take long at all for Ryan to come, nails digging into Rire’s shoulders hard enough to break skin, squealing into the crook where neck meets shoulder as his body spasms and jerks its way through orgasm.

He’s panting softly, breath hitching as Rire continues to slowly grind up into him. His grip loosens on those strong, pale shoulders, and the gleam in those slitted yellow eyes makes a shiver race up his spine.

“That’s one,” he rumbles softly, and Ryan lets out a low whine.

—

“You’re a bastard, you know that?”

Charlie yelps at the swat that earns him, lurching against the thornless vines holding him in place.

“Mm, you weren’t saying that the last time I strung you up like this, little dove.” Cain trails a finger along the back of one of his thighs, slowly traveling upward. Charlie squirms, resisting the urge to press back into his touch. “It’s not like they haven’t seen you naked before, so even _if_ they still showed up, it wouldn’t be the end of the world.”

“Yeah, say that when you’re the one hung out to dry.” A finger glides up and over his hole, and his breath hitches despite himself. 

Cain hums, drawing slow circles around his entrance. “Mm, dry is the last thing I want you, actually.” His finger withdraws briefly, and when it returns Charlie arches up with a yelp.

“Cold! That’s fucking cold you _asshole!”_

Cain laughs softly, unapologetic as his finger smears lube around Charlie’s hole and then starts to press inside, working his fingertip in small circles as he spreads the lubricant around, working on widening the circles as he goes to stretch his fledgling out.

“Mmm, careful, darling. That kind of rude talk earns punishments and you know it.”

Charlie groans as Cain’s finger pushes in deeper. “I— ohhh, fuck, you mean the rig job and the cold ass lube weren’t already punishments? Lucky me.”

Cain’s finger withdraws most of the way and then thrusts more roughly back inside, making Charlie jolt and moan more noisily. The fledgling’s fingers are now clutching at the vines wrapped around his wrists rather than hanging loosely. His shoulder muscles are flexing as he pulls at them.

Several more fingers are worked into him like this, slow and steady and then roughly all at once. Charlie endures it stubbornly, a battle of wills that neither of them ever grows tired of. Especially since Charlie came into more of his powers, enough so to sometimes be able to turn the tables on his powerful sire.

Right now Cain has the upper hand. Both of them know another day that might be the case.

Charlie’s masochism also lent itself well to the situation, but that was a different point entirely.

Eventually, though, Charlie gave in. His face was burning with heat, from exertion and from arousal. His thighs were squirming, trying to pull away from the vines keeping them spread wide. The fingers teasing him weren’t enough, were purposefully denying him the friction he really needed.

“C-Cain—” He bites his lip on a whine at a particularly pleasant curl of the fingers inside him. “Cain, please fuck me.”

“Hm? What was that?” 

He can hear the grin in the words. Charlie grinds his teeth. _”Please,_ Cain. Fuck me.”

“I nearly got it, one more time. I don’t know what’s wrong with my ears.” Cain’s fingers have stilled now inside him, and he’s relishing in how Charlie’s hips cant back toward him, tiny jerky movements of need.

“Cain, _for the love of somebody,_ get up here and fuck me before I lose my fucking mind, okay??”

Cain hums, and Charlie thinks he might have to actually do something drastic. And then the bed sinks under Cain’s weight as he moves in closer, and Charlie sags as he realizes that Cain is already blissfully naked. “Mm, I was looking for something a little more subservient and scraping, but we can always practice that next round.” 

Strong fingers spread his thighs wider still, and Charlie shudders.

“Bring it, feathers.”

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts came from here!
> 
> https://winter-soldier-love.tumblr.com/post/188743965077/countdown-to-christmas-drawingwriting-prompts


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